Alan Britt

February Blizzard

Diminutive snowflakes collect
in a spider’s web
hung in the corner
between mink lattice boards
and peeling white two-by-fours.

Amazingly, crystals still intact.

A few crystals resemble the fine hairs
on tiny cactus spines
in shapes of crosses or scissors,
while others retain the frozen geometry
of Platonic stars,
some with five arms,
some with six.

There are, of course, several shattered stars,
clumped and torn
like raw cotton.

This fine mist of snow
has been falling
nearly six hours, now.

In its breezy, moonlit corner, the entire web
quivers like nervous flagella
below a forensics microscope

{Poem by Alan Britt}